Thursday, 31 January 2013

OK – the first month of 2013 is over. In terms of my running, anyway. Some stats, courtesy of my Garmin 410 that has accompanied me throughout:

Count: 33
Activities

Distance: 272.40
mi

Time: 39h44’49”

Elevation Gain: 15,293
ft

Avg Speed: 6.9
mphNote: one set of runs to and fro chippie split into two as
there was the food-sourcing in between; similarly, one run in Atlanta got split
into two by my Garmin as I tried to have it tell me a route out there. I never went out
running twice in a day – that’d be just nuts! Far saner to run once a day, every day, right? The way I have done for the past 112 days?!How does that measure against my plans, I hear you
all ask. Well, to be honest I didn’t have a monthly target. I have a weekly
target and try to clock 50mi/week, and it’s one I’ve so far hit every week in
2013. Next week will be a challenge, as I’ll be spending the working part of it
in Sweden, where it will be cold (I can deal with that), dark (hmmm… let’s see)
and where I’ll be busy. As long as it’s bright enough, I should manage to get
out there… but for, say, 35mi, leaving myself 15mi for the weekend? We can but
wait and see. Or get out there and see, indeed.There is something called “The Strava
Run Mile Blast”, allowing Strava users to log their January mileage. 10,370
people joined worldwide and I’m… well, 85th. Surprising. Humbling.
Now it’s 8:20 on the East Coast and no doubt I’ll be relegated to treble
figures as the American day progresses, but for now 85th sounds
good. As does, quite frankly, 272.40mi. I’m kinda happy with that.

Incidentally, I might be 85th out of
10,370 runners globally… but I’m ‘only’ 4th out of a group of 15
(including myself) whom I ‘follow’ on Strava! Runners with whom I engage on Twitter, on
Strava itself… yes, I’m a quarter of the way down the ladder on there, rather
than being in the top 0.81% globally! Shows you just how mad my online buddies
are.

Not that I would go as far as saying I’m particularly sane, mind. The last few days have been particularly trying, more because of my intestine than my legs. My legs moan but generally get on wi’it, eventually: but if my intestine’s in a fowl mood there’s really not much I can do about it… My most sincere apologies for touching upon this but it genuinely is a concern of mine as races approach. I don’t like not feeling in control of something (read that as you will) and trust me, over the past few days there have been instances of limited control. But today all was in order again and I nailed 10.25mi at 8’09”/mi – a nice way to end the month, if I do say so mi’sen! Indeed, stats don’t lie (right?), and according to them it was my fastest run of at least ten miles. Sounds nice, does that, after the past couple of days I’d had.

14 of my 33 runs have been 10mi or longer, with two of those coming in at 15mi, one at 15.45 and one, on January 2, at 18.66. One goal for February ought to be a 20-miler: I feel I’ve got it in my legs, as much as anything I need to find the time for it! It won’t be the end of the world if I don’t exceed 15mi in any single run in February but it would be nice. As it’s nice that, of those four 15mi or longer runs this month, three were at sub-4hr marathon pace (8’11”, 8’27”, 8’38”), although the longest was run at 9’23/mi. But it is hilly round here… honest!

And let me make it most clear that I have no intention of going beyond 272.40mi in February,
not even on a pro-rata basis* to reflect the fact that, with its 28 days, February isn’t really a proper month. But there is one
stat above I’ll be targeting, namely the last one as I look to break the 7mph
average. Hopefully without shying away from them here hills..! Remember, I’m running the Bath Half on March 3rd, and I would dearly like to set a new HM PB after Bristol’s 1h49’46”..!

p.s.: looks like I’ve burnt 33,147 calories this month, too, although I’ve yet to sort out my heart rate monitor so these stats are of dubious credibility. Still, what I can tell you is that I’ve been eating a lot of Mrs S’ home-baked cakes and I’m none the heavier for it!

Wednesday, 16 January 2013

Pre-Scriptum: This post, which was a long time in the writing, was
finalised at around 30,000ft over the Atlantic as I made my way towards
Atlanta, GA for a week’s worth of meetings and discussions around Service
Lifecycle Management. I then checked it one last time in my hotel room a few
days later. If you can’t run at ten miles, you might as well write about it.

Oh, and a lot of the work was done while listening to Little Richard’s
“Very Best Of”. I was scrolling through for the Manic Street Preachers but
stopped one early. After all, the guy changed the course of popular music and
popular music, made white folk dance like no whitey ever had previously. Worth
a listen at any altitude. And gotta love the attitude.

Right, let’s do this!

I have long intended to write a piece on the relationships
I have developed with fellow runners through Social Media. People whom I’ve
never met, with one solitary exception. People
with whom, nevertheless, when it comes to running I empathise and sympathise,
in a reciprocal and reciprocated way, far more than with many people whom I’ve
known for decades.

So – who are these people? Are they friends? Are
they followers? Are they connections? Are they mere IDs, names? And, most
importantly, are they nutters? Let’s find out!

Firstly, I want to underline some of running’s
characteristics. I wish to do this from the perspective of someone who’s tried
his hand and feet at many sports. Forget long jumping, shot putting and all
that ‘official’ decathlon stuff: if decathlon consisted of football, tennis,
golf, swimming, cycling, running, cricket, volleyball, basketball and
table-tennis, I wouldn’t do too badly. I wouldn’t do great at any of them, but
on a good day I’d get by in most! As a result of which, and because I’m an
overthinker, I have an appreciation of what is required to succeed in many
sports, of the differences between the minds of sportspeople who do well and
badly in any of those.

SIMPLICITY

Let’s look at football (the one you play with your
feet) and tennis, the two sports that account for the majority of the time I’ve
spent on pitches, courses, courts and pools around the world. They are very
different, not least in their essential characteristic of team and individual
sport respectively. Yet they share some defining characteristics, too. Try to
describe a football match or a tennis match and you will find yourself picking
out acts of brilliance or disappointment that marked them, from a blinding save
to a cute lob. You will probably highlights swings in who held the upper-hand,
smart tactical thinking, gamesmanship, debatable decisions… just listing such
headers brings back to mind penalty saves, lobs, volleys, comebacks and that
daylight robbery by Pete Lench and Richard Clarke in the Portishead Men’s
Doubles 2006 Semifinal, to name but a few. They are hardcoded into my visual
and emotional memories. Now, when it comes to running…

…sure, I remember occasional sections of races, not
least because I’ve only run three to date. I remember the final 200m of the
Sheffield TenTenTen, the gruelling final mile of the Bristol Half Marathon before
I finally saw the finishing line and the Wyvern Christmas Cracker from 2012, no
problem. But they don’t stir the same levels of emotion as other snippets of
other sports. They are all part of a bigger picture, of an overall race. And,
during those races, my goal wasn’t to shine with moments of individual
brilliance as with previous sports. I was aiming for boredom, for monotony: for
the ability to run 13mi at a steady, constant pace, with no major accelerations
or decelerations. I might have been aiming for a time or for a distance, but
time and my own limitations would have been my sole adversaries: even when
surrounded by thousands of others, those races are purely against myself, and
my time is unlikely to be defined by any single step or stretch. It all comes
together when you cross the finishing line, or indeed when you walk back
through the door from a training run. Until then, there is little room for
short-lived brilliance. Which is not to say there is little room for error:
there is plenty of that in pacing yourself. It’s just… well, easier to explain.

Beyond self-analysis, what does this mean when it
comes to sharing experiences? It’s simple: it makes it easier. This is no
football game where you have to try and convey subtle tactical changes, the
impact of a missed penalty, the bad timing of a substitution… it is no tennis
encounter affected by a bad line call in the second game of the third set… if
after a run you text, tweet or indeed just say “Ten miles, 1h33’55””, as I
might have done a few mornings back, you are already providing a fairly good
indication of your performance and the opportunity to comment upon it with it.
Of course there is scope to enhance it further: 217m of elevation made it hard
going in some places, there wasn’t much wind about but the end of the Esplanade
is always a killer, and the final stretch up Nore Road is just what you need at
that stage… not! Those are details, embellishments to a picture that is
otherwise factual, accurate, unblemished by officials or competitors.

EMPATHY

I feel better placed to appreciate what fellow
runners are experiencing than I felt in other sports. Again, it’s because it’s
easier to compare scenarios. So you understand what it means to go out in the
pouring rain at 6:40am, to be a mile from home and need the toilet (sorry but
it’s true!), so get to a mile from the finishing line and suddenly feel
drained… And, because you understand, you can empathise.

Sure, I fully understand what it’s like to lose a
key tennis match in a 3rd set tie-break having won the first set and
I fully understand what it’s like to lose a football match on penalties. But
there are always more variables surrounding those scenarios, not least the
opposition (did you lose it or were you beaten?) and your team-mates (was it
really their fault?). Running is simpler: it’s just you and what’s under your
feet. There’s a simplicity, an integrity that I really appreciate – and that is
reflected in the type of people you meet through it. (The integrity that is, I’m not making any intellectual comments here!)

SUPPORT

I played at Portishead Lawn Tennis Club for
around a decade. During that time I probably played around 50 league fixtures: four
players per club, four doubles’ matches. It’s as close to a team format as
tennis gets.

During those matches I’d support my partner, we’d
share advice and we’d gee each other up. This would work better with some
partners than others. It would all be fairly basic stuff: mid-match is not a
time to be getting into the finer technical points of any sport. That’s what
club sessions are for…

…only you wouldn’t see much of it then, either. There
are multiple reasons for this. There isn’t the time in between games; you don’t
hang around much afterwards; any such discussion has to be practical, words
alone are pointless; and most of us don’t want to come across as patronising
know-it-alls when, ultimately, we’re all just amateurs engaging in a few hours’
escapism. As for those who don’t mind coming across thus, they are often
ignored anyway…

Last but not least, the guy who’s your partner on a
Sunday afternoon is your opponent on a Tuesday night, he could be drawn against
you in the Club Championships in the Spring… you raise your guard again. Less
so with beginners: if they’re no threat you do your utmost to help them, trying
to ensure you’re not overloading them or expecting too much of them. But those
whom I saw as threats got little off me and I got little off them. I wouldn’t
have expected it to be any other way.

I have not found any of this with my social media
running buddies. Maybe it’s because we don’t really see each other or maybe
it’s because, even if we were to run the same races, we’d have different goals:
it wouldn’t be a matter of beating each other but of achieving our goals,
hitting a PB, etc.. And sure, it’s also because any running advice is easier to
word, to encapsulate in a 140-character tweet than any advice about a forehand
grip. I’m sure there’s an edge between runners of similar levels but,
otherwise, if you’re smart enough to recognise that your pal’s better than you,
you know you’ve got nothing to gain by trying to keep up with him/her. Go for
broke in a tennis match and you may still lose but you may win more games or
sets than you were hoping for. But go for broke to beat a mate in a race and…
you won’t reach the finishing line.

I genuinely enjoy seeing my online running buddies
do well. Thanks to the online running/cycling tool/community Strava, I can see
exactly what, when, where and how they’ve run – providing, that is, they used a
GPS device (watch or smartphone) and posted its data. This engenders the online
equivalent of back-slapping and cheering, in the shape of Strava’s ‘kudos’
(Zuckerberg would call it ‘Like’) and accompanying comments, creating a
virtuous circle of inspiration drawn and provided. Seeing that Nic’s run a 10-miler, for
example, doesn’t make me feel bad because I only ran 7.77: I recognise and
acknowledge his achievement and draw inspiration for the next time I go out
there, if not to run longer then maybe to run faster. And hopefully it’s a
two-way thing – I’m fairly sure it is. I cannot think of any other sport in
which someone else’s achievements are as motivating, whereas I can think of
plenty where they may be discouraging or even, whisper quietly, engender
jealousy…

If you don’t run, or indeed don’t do sport in
general, the above paragraphs will sound like vacuous rubbish. If you’ve been
out there running on your own, say at 5:30 on a cold December morning (but even
on a warm and breezy June evening), then you will appreciate that any form of
acknowledgement of your effort (and sometimes that’s just the getting out of
bed part!) is welcome. Moreover, the simplicity of running comes to the fore
again. You don’t need to analyse video footage of a badly-timed offside trap or
a wild backhand down the line: glancing at distance, time and maybe altitude
gain/loss (all factual and untainted by subjectivity) and you have an instant
understanding of the run completed. Delve into splits and gradients and you
have more valuable data at your disposal than most tennis pundits could dream
of. Or maybe I shouldn’t say that, what with Cousin Joe working for Hawkeye
right now..?!

Right, back to the fundamental question: Are these
friendships?

Of course, that in itself raises the question of
“What is friendship?” Do I have 378 friends, as my Facebook profile suggests?
Do I hell. I probably have thirty – and half of those aren’t even on Facebook
(yes, such people exist, apparently). I’m not going to define ‘friendship’
here, as no doubt it means different things to all of us and none of us enjoy a
monopoly on the right definition: but I would expect that, however we define
it, we end up with a similar number. If it’s fundamentally different, you are
either amazing or deluded.

(OK, here’s where I jump off the fence… sort of!)

I certainly think online exchanges can provide the
foundation for friendships. I think some of the relationships they enable are
more supportive and constructive than some I enjoy with people one would
traditionally class as ‘friends’, certainly in the specific domain of running. But,
in order to be fully classed as friendships, is face-to-face interaction
required?

I’ve pondered this at length. At one point I was
leaning towards stating that you do have to meet in the flesh the person behind
the avatar for reality to rubber-stamp or throw out your online experiences.
But here’s the thing: the amount of benefit I’ve had from my relationships with
them, in terms of advice and inspiration, is truly phenomenal. They influence
my purchasing decisions more than multi-million advertising campaigns, they
help me find extra strength when out on the road more than any “Runner’s World”
article… my relationship with them might be virtual but their impact on what I
do and how I do it is absolutely tangible.

So, having weighed all the evidence and overthunk
the matter extensively, I’m going to say that yes, I do consider as friends
some of the #nutters I’ve met on Twitter and whose runs I now follow on Strava.
That notwithstanding, I am quick to add that I would also dearly love to meet
them in the flesh to cement those relationships. Which ties up with what
I wrote about my friendship with Jon, which was strengthened significantly
by our shared experiences along the roads of Pill and subsequently Bristol.
Male friendships require that DYRW
(“Do You Remember When”) moment: “Do you remember that tweet” doesn’t quite cut
it. Now, if I were to run a race with some of my Twitter buddies… well that
would be one heck of a DYRW, eh?

Who knows, maybe that will be the Sheffield Half Marathon on May 12.
I’m running it and so are some of them. We’ve loosely discussed running
together but, and rightly so, not had any firm talks as that bonding feeling of
sharing an experience should not compromise the pursuit of individual goals,
whatever they may be, or the race will deliver the opposite result.

So, if you’re one of the #nutters reading this, I
hope the conclusion I reached does not offend you. Thanks again for all the
advice, inspiration and perspiration. See you out there on the wires soon… and,
hopefully, one day on some sodden field or sun-kissed asphalt.

Post-Scriptum: My perspective on this matter and
on the value of Web-native relationships may well be influenced by the fact
that my wife and I met via an online dating site. We might have had something
goin’ on before we met, but only then did we receive confirmation. In fact, my
wife would argue she only had that confirmation the second time we met, as she
will forever insist that the guy she first met in the real world wasn’t the one
she’d met online, rather a quiet, shy and introvert (to the point of coming
across as cold) version. Not that I realised this at the time, or how close I
got to the beginning proving the end (us blokes rarely do, right?), but it was
our online foundation that earned me a second chance. As proven by the last
eight years and two kids, I obviously took it.

Wednesday, 9 January 2013

Right, everybody – how are you all doing? Cracking
Christmas? Good end to 2012? Well here’s to a rockin’, healthy and prosperous
2013!

I know you’re all waiting with baited breath for my
next instalment. It’s taking a while, partly because I’m busy and partly
because it will address a subject to which I wish to do thorough justice. For
now, here’s a confession…

…back in September, I reported
exhaustively on my racing debut at the TenTenTen. By that I mean that
reading the post must have been exhausting!

Without asking you to read it again, here’s how I
covered the hilly climb second time round:

“…got to top of grass bank. Realised overtaking people up the grass bank
had not been wise. Wished briefly that Dawn had not been in that particular
spot, at the bottom of the hill she’d been warning me about since April. Wished
that I had not felt obliged to step things up a notch as a consequence of that.
Headed into woods. Felt a stitch. Slowed down. Was overtaken by far more than
the four people I’d passed up the grass bank. Struggled for five, long minutes…”

Technically, that is completely accurate. Where I
may have been uncharacteristically economical with the detail, however, is with
the “slowed down” bit…

…a more accurate description of events would have
been followed by the words “to walking pace”.

See, I never felt compelled to share this because I
still clocked a decent debut time (50’49”). I’d go on to
improve on that significantly in Weston-super-Mare in December, coming in at
47’02”. But then not only was Squintani fitter and now no longer a first-time
novice: more importantly, the Weston sands were flat. That hill was most
definitely not and I tackled it with far too much gusto. So yes, for a minute
or so (though it felt far longer) I dropped down to walking pace. After that, I
“felt my brothers lift me and carry me on as I made my way down the woods.
Headed out of Forge Dam and back towards Rustlings Road. Found my rhythm, my
pace again. Knew the end was in sight and kept going. Was no longer struggling
as I ran into Endcliffe Park. Started to lengthen stride. Felt good.” And,
shortly after, crossed the finishing line. 50’49”. Smiles all around. No
questions asked.

So why am I coming out now?

Simple: because those nice people at Sheffield TenTenTen have
shared a video by those equally nice people at Sheffield running store Accelerate. I watched it in the hope it
might feature my sprint finish or my post-race elation. And does it?

Does it heck! All of 12” in, this 3’13” video shows a
forlorn figure in a glo-yellow shirt (just to make sure nobody can miss him in his darkest hour) raise his hand to dry his forehead as
enthusiastic runners pass him in the woods. They couldn’t have picked a more
depressing sight if they’d tried. Or maybe they did, I don’t know.

The 2013
TenTenTen takes place on October 13 and I’ve already registered. I’ll be
back. It’s a long way to go for a 10k but for me it’s where it all began and I
want to return. And I want to tackle that hill again: sure it’s tough, but it
makes the race. Will I tackle it any slower this time round? No. Will I have it
in me to keep going through the woods this time round? You bet.

So, there you have it: truth will out, always. And
indeed it has. Unfailing, unfaltering, undisputable.

That’s all I’ve got this time, folk. I’ll get back
to my article on whether people you’ve never met face-to-face but with whom you
interact on Social Media can be considered friends. It’s already proving a far more enjoyable
post to write.

Oh go on then, a few numbers while I’m here. Having begun on October 12, my runstreak is up to 90 days, during which I’ve run 623mi at an average of 6.92mi/day. I closed the books on 2012 having run 1.770,78km or 1,100.36mi, depending on your preference (I’m doing as Mazymizer told me, as per usual, and converting to imperial this year). I’ve run at least 80km/week since week commencing November 19, peaking at 65mi last week (31/12/2012 - 06/01/2013). That’s an exception, not a benchmark, by the way. So, in short, it’s all good. Not bad for a fat lad from Sheffield who had to stop running halfway through his first 10k just because he’d run too fast past his Auntie Dawn!

About Me

Made in Sheffield, exported worldwide. Grew up near Genoa, Italy; returned to Sheffield for Uni (with some time in Nice thrown in for good measure) before falling South and then stumbling West to London, Slough and now North Somerset. Any further West and I'm going to get awfully wet. The 176m separating me from Sheffield generally shrink when I'm online.